


Spice Islands

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Daybook prompt 'endearments', and for the holiday. </p><p>Unbetaed, all mistakes by own.  Be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spice Islands

"War Dog!" Buck slapped Chris on the back as he neared the bar. "Was wondering when you'd get here!"

Chris stepped to one side, out of the range of Buck's long arm. "Buck," he said with a nod. He glanced to the bartender who was looking at him, the question on his face. Inez had trained them well; they didn't make assumptions when it came to orders, not the way they used to. "You got rum?"

The bartender blinked, his mustache twitched, but he nodded and turned, reaching toward the top shelf. "Forty cents a shot," he said as he moved, but Chris was already dropping coins on the table. 

"Whole bottle," he said. "This should cover it."

"Whoo whee!" Buck said, leaning on the bar. His long arm was now filled with a woman, one of the buxom blondes who had moved into the saloon in the summer and been discreet about the way they made their livings. "Now it's Christmas! Chris has bought the rum!"

Christmas. The word felt hollow, empty, as dead as Sarah and Adam. No matter how fast he was, the unwanted memories came to him before he had the bottle to his mouth: reading Adam that damned poem about St. Nick, Sarah's voice as she sang Christmas carols, the smell of pies baking in the wood stove.

The locket that he had given her that last Christmas, the one that she'd worn to her death.

"Chief," Josiah said, his voice deep and rich in Chris' ear. "Glad you stopped in." He moved up to the bar beside Chris, signalling to the bartender who nodded and reached for another bottle, this one on a lower, easier to reach shelf. Whiskey, and not the good stuff. 

Chris swallowed down a gulp of his rum, but just a gulp. It was still burning his throat as he said, "Thought you were giving a sermon tonight."

Josiah took a sip of his whiskey before looking at Chris. "Midnight," he said. "If anyone shows up." He sipped again then shrugged, once. "No one has yet."

The memory was sharp, like a spike through his skull: Sarah holding her Bible, reading to them on Christmas Eve. The story of the stable and the manger and Mary giving birth. He lifted the bottle again but his move was mirrored in Josiah. "Third year," Chris heard himself say as he watched Josiah drink again. "Reckon by now we've proven to this town we ain't leaving."

Josiah still held the glass to his lips but he stopped drinking. He didn't look at Chris, not directly, but he cut his eyes toward him, a quick glance. "You think that's the problem? That people are afraid . . ." He stopped, the sentence trailing off as if he didn't know how to finish it – even though, as far as Chris was concerned, that was as far as it needed to go. 

The rum still burned, and maybe it was stronger than most, for he found the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Sarah wanted to go to midnight service, but after Adam was born, it was too late to be away from the house. And the local church didn't have a regular preacher – never knew if there was going to be a sermon or not. Third year – well, third year, we went. Late, and we were tired, but she was happy. Preacher had been there long enough for her to know him and like him. To know he would be there."

Josiah swallowed though he wasn't drinking, the glass still near his lips, his fingers tight around it. After a few seconds, he nodded, then slowly he let the glass drop down to the bar. "Best go check up on my sermon," he said, straightening. He wiped his hands on his coat, as if brushing away a spot. "Merry Christmas," he said, turning and nodding at Chris. "Chief."

Chris nodded back. "Josiah." He lifted his bottle again, thinking to take another drink from it, but a glass slid down the bar, clinking against the bottom of the rum. 

"Dear Mr. Larabee," another voice said lightly, liltingly, "I do believe I see a bottle of some of the finest rum available in these backwater environs. Why I, myself, had offered the lovely Miss Recillos a tidy profit for that particular bottle, though she refused me. Her loyalty to her clients is commendable – if not particularly lucrative."

"Ezra," Chris said with a nod, covering his surprise. He hadn't asked Inez to order it in – had he? "Surprised you didn't order in your own. Bad run of luck?" He glanced at the glass, then at his bottle. After a second, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. It didn't burn as much this time, though there was still a bite. 

"I fear that I was forgetful," Ezra said, sounding sad. "I ordered a bottle of fine brandy and a bottle of champagne – in case Mother made an unexpected appearance – but I neglected to add rum. It's hardly Christmas Eve without it." He looked at Chris for a few seconds, then, in a quieter tone, he added, "I should be willing to pay for a small portion of your bottle."

The words themselves were unexpected and enough to give Chris pause: Ezra's offered to pay for the rum, a sure indication of his desire for it. But there was also a look in his eyes, a softness at the corners and an air of sadness about him, as though he expected Chris to refuse. Chris had rarely seen Ezra in this mood, and it wasn't one he liked. Without a conscious thought, he poured a good measure of the rum into the empty glass then pushed it back down the bar.

Ezra looked from it to Chris and smiled as he reached one hand into his pocket, the one where he kept his money.

"Merry Christmas, Ezra," Chris said, pouring a measure of rum into his own glass this time then waving away the coins Ezra held out toward him. 

Ezra's smile changed, becoming wider and softer. Sincere. "To yourself as well, dear Mr. Larabee. To yourself as well."

The hubbub in the saloon was growing louder, more people coming in as the daylight faded into a cold winter's night. Chris turned, putting his back to the bar as he sipped his rum. The flavor was more distinct now that he was used to the burn. It was spicy, some pepper and cinnamon in the mix, and it made him think of his ma's house at Christmas. 

He really needed to write her a letter. He'd meant to do it before now, but every time he sat down to write, he found he had nothing to say. Sarah had always been the one to write the letters, pages long, and he and his mother had developed a close relationship though they had only met one time. 

He was thinking about that when JD pushed his way through the doors of the saloon and pressed through the crowd. He made his way to Buck's table, where Buck had the blonde on his knee and a number of other people sitting around him, listening to some story about Buck's Christmas adventures from the past. After listening for a few seconds, JD shook his head and moved away, heading for the bar. 

"Boss," he said as he drew close to Chris. "Merry Christmas!"

"JD," Chris nodded. "Town quiet?"

JD waved to the bartender who nodded to him but was busy serving someone farther down the bar. "Yeah, so far. Hope it stays that way. Hate to have trouble on Christmas Eve."

It was a sign of how much he'd come along, that he knew better than just to assume there wouldn't be. Last year, they'd had five cowboys locked up in the jail before the night was over, all of them drunk and rowdy because they didn't have anything better to do, or anywhere better to be. JD had spent the night in the jail with them, keeping an eye out to make sure they didn't hurt themselves or get into any other trouble.

The bartender poured JD a beer and Chris recalled something he'd overheard the day before. As JD turned toward him, sipping from the mug, Chris said, "You're supposed to be at Nettie Wells' tonight, aren't you?"

JD swallowed, looking at Chris, and Chris saw the thoughts going through his head. Trying to figure out how to answer the question without having to put anyone else out. Trying not to seem unreliable. Trying to seem as old as the rest of them. 

"JD," Chris said, trying not to show his amusement, "I think we can handle this tonight. You were on last year – hell, didn't you spend last Christmas Eve in the jail with them drunks? Don't seem fair for you to have to do it two years in a row."

"Well," JD started, "I am the sheriff - "

"Then why do you keep calling me 'Boss'?" Chris cut him off but not harshly. 

JD blinked, took another sip of his beer and swallowed as he gathered his thoughts, the ones darting around in his head. Eventually he said, "I guess because you are. Even if you don't wear the badge. You know more about how to do things than any of the rest of us."

Chris wasn't sure that was right, but he couldn't argue that at the moment and win the bigger issue. "If I'm the 'Boss'," he said, emphasizing the word, "then I can make the plan, and right now, the plan is that you're going to take this Christmas Eve and spend it with the Wells family. Josiah is off preparing his sermon, and I suspect that Nathan is going to be working some of his own Christmas cheer, so Buck, Vin, Ezra, and I can handle the town."

JD looked like he might argue, as though he might think that he was being given special privilege for his youth.

Which might well have been why Chris' mouth once more worked on its own. "Some of the best times I had with Sarah were on Christmas Eve, with her cooking special things, the only time of the year she did. Best let Casey know you appreciate it, JD. And you will."

JD drew a breath, then he grinned, a wide, spontaneous grin of pure pleasure. "Thanks, Boss," he said, the words spilling out so fast that Chris had to listen hard to catch them. "This means a lot to me – and to Casey." He took another long drink of beer, but it was as if he were unable to stand still, now that he had been given permission to go. The mug was still half full as he slammed it down on the bar. "I'll check in in the morning – or even later tonight, if you think I need to - "

"Tomorrow is fine," Chris said, waving him toward the door. "Get on."

JD took three steps forward then he stopped, whipped around and ran back to the bar. "Gotta give this to Buck," he said, picking up his mug with its portion of beer and shoving his way over to Buck's table, where he dropped it beside Buck's almost empty one. Buck was in the middle of yet another tale, but he grinned up at JD, reached out to catch his arm. JD was already moving away, though, calling back loud enough for Chris to hear, "Can't talk now, gotta get to Casey's!"

Buck laughed loudly after him, said something that the others around him laughed at, too, but as they did, Buck cut his eyes to Chris and grinned, nodding in appreciation. 

As if Chris had done it for Buck, which he hadn't. But that didn't matter, Chris thought as he took another sip of his rum. If Buck thought he had, well then that was another favor Buck owed him. 

"Cowboy," a low voice rumbled behind him. Chris responded instinctively, jerking around even though he had already recognized the voice. 

Vin grinned, though he was looking at the bartender and not at Chris. "Vin," Chris answered. "What's it like out there?" Vin had been out of town most of the afternoon, riding around the farms and other outlying houses to check up on people, make sure things were all right. 

"Good," he said quietly, nodding as the bartender drew him a beer. "No problems out of the ordinary. Went out as far as Baker's Pass, most people seem to be comfortable, as they're want to be this time of year. Figured I should ride back in, help you keep an eye on things, as Josiah's got his churching to do, and JD needs to be with Casey. No way to know who's gonna need Nathan, and Buck and Ezra – well," he tilted his head toward the crowd, "both seem to have their own people to watch over."

Chris hadn't thought of it that way, but he reckoned now, as he saw the crowds gathering around Buck at his table, and Ezra at his, that maybe Vin was right. Those two drew their own audiences, and more often than not, it kept things under control. 

Vin paid the bartender then lifted his mug and turned around, his back to the bar as he watched the crowd. "Seems only fair. Christmas ain't meant a lot to me since I was a kid, reckon it's best to let those who love it have a chance to enjoy. Best to stay busy – keeps me from thinking 'bout what I ain't got."

It was a fair sentiment – Chris' own, as it were. No surprise that Vin, who seemed to share a similar view of things, felt the same. 

"Like that bottle you got," Vin said after a time. "Don't look to be whiskey. Don't smell like it neither."

"That a hint?" Chris asked, though he turned to signal the bartender for another glass. 

Vin shrugged but his lips quirked. "Only if you're in the mood to share."

"Seeing as it's Christmas," Chris said, pouring a good measure into the glass and handing it over to Vin. "To a quiet night," he said, lifting his own glass in a salute.

"Maybe they'll all head over to Josiah's preaching," Vin said, returning the toast. He lifted the glass, taking a long smell of it before bringing it to his lips. He sipped carefully, letting the rum roll around in his mouth before he swallowed. Afterwards, he nodded once. "Ain't whiskey, but it sure tastes like Christmas."

"Spiced rum," Chris said. "Holiday tradition where I come from."

Vin nodded, his eyes on the crowd in front of them. "Nice to have 'em," he said. "Tastes pretty fine, too." He took another drink, this one bigger and less wary, then he set the glass on the bar. "Watch this for me? Reckon I need to walk across to Dan's, make sure things over there ain't no worse than the are here."

Chris turned to look out a window but there were too many people in the way. "Reckon there's trouble?" he asked, knowing Vin's instinct for sensing the way of things. 

"Nah," Vin said, turning to look at Chris directly for the first time. "But best way to stay ahead of it is to make sure folk know it ain't welcome. I won't be long, Cowboy." He grinned, drank from his beer mug then set it close to the glass of rum. "Got a good reason to come back quick. Just keep this away from Ezra and Buck."

"Will do," Chris said. "Don't want them to steal your Christmas present." 

Vin chuckled as he pushed off the bar. "Best one I've gotten in a long while," he said. "Back soon." He stepped away then turned back, touching the brim of his hat. "Thanks, Chris."

Chris nodded, his mouth strangely dry. It was an effort to get out, "You're welcome, Vin."

He watched Vin leave, aware that for the first time this night, he hadn't been thinking of Sarah and Adam. Yet he could feel them now more than ever, the love they had given him, the home he had made with them. Things that he no longer took for granted, things he had had and lost were things that some people had never had at all. Good people, people who deserved them. 

Chris barely saw Vin go through the doors to the street, the crowd thick toward the entrance, but he did notice that the doors hung open for a time, and then someone else came in. The last of their number. 

Nathan looked tired and a little uncertain as he surveyed the crowd in front of him. Chris straightened and raised a hand, drawing the other man's attention. Nathan hesitated, looking once more around him at all the people, then he thrust out his chin and started forward, winding his way through the crowd. 

"Chris," he said as he drew near. "Guess there are a lot of other folks without family tonight."

Chris stiffened until he realized that Nathan was talking about the crowd in the saloon, not him. But Nathan was saying more. 

"Been out at the Harners – Mrs. Harner had her babe, a boy this time, but it was a hard one. I warned her after the last one that she didn't need to have no more, she's wearing herself out. I hope she remembers how hard this birth was. It was touch and go for a while, and she's gonna be weak for a spell." He wiped his hands on his pants, as if he could wipe away the worry.

The bartender came close and Nathan opened his mouth to order, but Chris cut in. "Another glass, Frank."

Nathan frowned, but he didn't argue as Chris poured rum and handed it to him. "Ain't this your tradition?" he asked, looking at Chris even as he brought the glass to his noise and sniffed at it, like Vin had. 

"Don't know why everyone thinks that," Chris said, uneasy. "Buck been talking out of his ass again?"

Nathan's frown eased and his voice was lighter as he said, "Might be because you've told us more than once that you only drink rum at Christmas, and spiced run at that." He took a cautious sip, again like Vin, but his eyes closed in appreciation. "Haven't had this in a long time," he said. "Last Christmas we had with my ma and pa together, we had a taste of it – well, us kids had a taste. One of the best Christmases of my life." He opened his eyes and looked straight at Chris. "Reckon you know what I mean."

Chris looked at the bottle on the bar, half empty now. It looked like any other liquor bottle, green glass, red wax markings around the neck, the remnants of the seal. A cracked and worn label, the sign that it was well traveled. 

The liquor itself was non-descript, the green tint of the bottle diluting the depth of the darkness of the rum. Hard to tell what it was, no way to know what it really meant. But he did. 

And so did Nathan. It wasn't the liquor – it didn't fill enough of the bottle anymore. It was the empty space that had taken its place. The memories. 

Nathan was right. Chris did understand. Which was why this was what he needed this time of the year. 

Which was why he wanted to share it with all of his friends. 

His new family. The thought, the reality of it, left him cold. He had come here with the intent to mourn this Christmas without Sarah and Adam, as he had the last three. And he had started it out that way, with that first taste of rum which pulled out the memories. 

He had needed to do it, to make sure he still had them in his memories, the sound of them, the love for them. 

But somewhere along the way, he had gotten caught up in what the others wanted, what they needed. What he could give them. It was a betrayal. They were men, adult men who could make their own way. 

"I didn't know my ma was dead when we were dragged from that place – me, my pa, my sisters. We thought for a long time that she was left behind. Found out later she was dead, but didn't know that she was dead before we left until – well, you know. My pa's trial here. All that time, I thought – well, you know what I thought. You know how wrong I was about the things that were important. Are important." Nathan took another sip of the rum, nodding. "I'm staying here tonight, in case I'm needed, but tomorrow, if you boys can handle it, I'm riding out to the village. I want to see Rain."

Chris looked at him, remembering Sarah. Remembering the moment when he had chosen her over everything else. He took a long drink from his glass, the spice of it warm in his mouth. But instead of making him miss her more, it made him think of the men here, the ones with whom he had shared half the bottle. The ones with whom he shared his life. There were some memories, not enough, yet, to fill a half-empty bottle, but there were other things, too: the time he shared with them now. The fact that unthinkingly, he had shared himself with them. 

"Looks like it's gonna be a quiet night," someone said, and Chris blinked, finding Vin standing close by. 

"Good to hear," Nathan said. "Be nice to have a quiet Christmas Eve."

"Ain't that the truth!" Buck said, coming up behind Vin and taking his glass out of his hand. "See you got some of Chris' rum!" He held it to his nose and sniffed at it, then shook his head, handing it back to Vin. "Never could get the taste for it, though I do love the way it smells." He held up his beer mug, newly refilled. "To Christmas Eve, without trouble, but not too damned quiet." He grinned, and so did the others.

"Indeed," Ezra said, joining them. "To Christmas Eve – oh, I seem to be empty." He held up his own glass, which was without rum. 

Chris sighed, but he reached for the bottle and poured more into Ezra's glass. More room for memories, he thought, but then, more for the men with him. More life with them. 

"Reckon JD's at Casey's by now," Buck said, glancing toward the window.

"A fine thing," Ezra said with a nod. "You are going to see Miss Rain tomorrow, are you not?" He looked at Nathan, who, in turn, looked at Chris. 

But it was Vin who answered. "If we ain't got trouble tonight, we surely won't have trouble tomorrow. Nothing we can't handle, anyway."

Nathan was still looking at Chris, though, so Chris nodded, remembering JD's words. Another time not to argue the point. "Yep."

Nathan nodded back. "Thanks." He smiled then, sudden and wide, just like JD had. Then he finished off the rest of the rum in his glass, set it aside, and looked to the door. "Gonna go pack a few things, then head over to the church. Reckon Josiah might like some company, in case no one shows up."

"I believe Miss Recillos has plans to be there," Ezra said. "She mentioned earlier that she needed someone to be around in case Frank needed assistance, and I said I would." 

"Mary, too," Buck nodded. "She said she really wanted to take Billy to a midnight service."

"Believe I heard Mrs. Potter say the same thing, her and the Wheelers were planning to meet over there," Vin added. "Least Josiah will have some company tonight." He glanced to Chris the used his chin to indicate the bottle. "Might want to save him some of that, for later. All that spice be good for a man who's been talking for a while."

Chris looked at the bottle. More memories in it now, Sarah and Adam and that midnight service. Adam and his first wooden toys. 

"Let me know if you need me," Nathan said, slapping Vin on the shoulder as he made his way toward the door. "But don't need me," he called over his shoulder, and his teeth flashed in another grin. 

"I have a seat at the table open, if any of you gentlemen would care to play cards," Ezra said, gesturing toward his table. 

"Got my own game going on," Buck said, his eyebrows moving suggestively as he, too, grinned. "Working on one of the best ways to wake up on Christmas morn – snuggled in with a couple of beautiful ladies!" 

"Think I'll walk around the town again," Vin said. "Pretty night, lots of stars in the sky. Be back in a while." He finished off the rum in one long drink, shaking his head once as he swallowed. 

"That leaves you, dear Mr. Larabee," Ezra said. "Care to join us?"

Chris looked at the bottle once more, then to Vin as he eased through the crowd to the door, and Buck, who was already back at his table, his arms spread wide as he started another tale. 

Picking up the cork, he capped the bottle, turned to Frank and called, "Save this for later?"

The bartender nodded as he finished filling a mug of beer and put it on the bar in front of another customer. Deftly, he picked up a half-full bottle of whiskey close to hand and slid it down the bar toward Chris. 

Chris caught it and grinned. This, he was more used to. More memories, but less focused. "What are you cheating at tonight, Ezra?" he asked, turning to follow the other man to the table. 

"Why, sir," Ezra said, pretending to be affronted. "I have little need to cheat, not with the likes of most of you. And in all honesty," he said, turning and lowering his voice so that only Chris could hear him, "it is Christmas Eve. It is the night to have goodwill towards all men."

The idea was so unexpected that Chris found himself laughing. 

That was something he would remember, that Ezra didn't cheat on Christmas Eve. Another memory for the spiced rum bottle, which stood on the top shelf behind the bar until later that night, when Josiah, Nathan, Vin, and JD joined them in the near-empty saloon for one last Christmas Eve drink.


End file.
